Closing Time
by Nights Sleepless
Summary: Peter convinces Olivia to have a drink with him. Just a bit of fluffy-ish. Ratings for minor language. Enjoy&Review : Spoilers for "Bound."


So, my last few fics have been a little angsty, and I wanted to do something more on the fluffy-ish side, with less drama. So, what's better than bringing Peter and Liv to a bar?? Yeah. So I hope you enjoy it. I got the inspiration while listening to the song Closing Time by Semisonic, so naturally, named the fic after it.

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_"Come on, Liv," Peter persisted, and she bit her lip to keep a straight face. "You know you want to." How was he able to seem convincing, when she knew this would be a bad idea? But the way he stood in front of her desk, citizen consultant card hanging from his neck and a lopsided smile, made her agree with him. She did want to. Really badly. "You've been working non-stop all week."_

_"One drink," she warned. His smile beamed, and she felt her face grow hot. Proud of herself for making him smile, she shut down her computer and picked up her jacket. "Someone has to be the designated driver."_

_"If you say so," he told her, and she couldn't figure out if he was being sarcastic or charming._

About two hours later, give or take, she finally figured out he had been sarcastic.

She was still clutching her stomach from laughter, already forgetting what it was Peter had said in the first place. Looking up at him, he was sitting there casually with a wide grin, obviously not as drunk as she was. She faintly remembered him saying he had to stop, in order to drive her home safely, after her third round. The edge of her vision was blurred, but she could still see Peter as clear as when she was sober, if not clearer. The light reflected off of his bright green eyes and softened his face. "Peter, Peter, Peter.," she breathed.

"Olivia, Olivia, Olivia," he replied and she laughed. He chuckled, and she knew it was rather at her than with her. "You're so drunk," he mused.

"I know," Olivia replied, nodding enthusiastically. She had given up reminding him over and over again she rarely got drunk. She knew he believed her, but she still felt the need to express this. Taking another sip, she licked her lips and closed her eyes. Even though the drink didn't blur her memories from the past few days. The ones she desperately wished she could forget for a moment. Subconsciously, she reached up and let her fingers brush the wound on her forehead.

"Does it hurt?" Opening her eyes, she looked back at Peter, who was sitting across the table from her, and dropped her hand.

"No," she answered sadly. However, the sore patch of red skin on her back where she had been given a spinal tap felt like it was on fire every time she leaned back in her seat. Shaking her head, she sighed and took another sip. "I'm fine."

"You say you are," he said, raising his eyebrows, and leaning forward, crossing his arms on the table.

"And you would know, right?" He tilted her head and she let out a breath. "I don't know." She let herself relax and fall back into the seat. But as soon as her back made contact and the pain shot through her, she jumped up out of the seat. Nearly tripping over her own feet, she grabbed the table for support. Peter instantly reacted, as said before much more sober than Olivia, and shot up to a stand, grabbing her arm to support her.

"What was that about?" he asked, and she pulled away from him.

"Let's go sit on the stools," she proposed, cursing at how her voice was becoming slightly slurred. She didn't want to risk that happening again. Because of the pain, but mostly she didn't want Peter to look at her with those concerned eyes. It killed her every time, she hated it when he looked at her like that.

"Okay," Peter agreed, without further argument and grabbed her drink and coat, leading her over to the stools. She could barely feel her feet underneath, why was it his hand on her back, dangerously close to her injury, felt so clear and her skin grew hot under her blouse? God, he even pulled her stool out for her. Sitting down hesitantly, she watched him sit down in the stool next to her, turning so he faced her.

Taking her drink from him, she finished it. She had to look away from the gleam in his eye, humored by how drunk she was getting herself. "Did I say thanks?" she asked after a moment of silence. In the background she could hear a cover on 'Jessie's Girl' mixed in with the sound of people mingling, and a pool table. It was a bar very similar to the one in Cambridge her and Peter had visited before on a case. They had only had a few drinks. Just enough for her to drop her guard for a little while, but not like now.

"For what?" he asked, turning in his seat and playing with an empty box of matches that had been left there.

"Calling me at Leob's house and letting me know Samantha was planning to kill me," Olivia said, forcing herself to look away from him. She signaled for the bartender to fill her glass again.

"Well, I wasn't going to not call you," he replied, absent mindedly.

"You know what I mean," she answered. She hated how quickly everything became somber. Just two minutes ago she had on the verge of tears from laughter. Quickly, she turned in her seat to say something to him, momentarily forgetting she was drunk, and nearly fell off the stool. Luckily, Peter reached out and snaked his arm around her waist to stop her.

"Geez, Liv," he chuckled as she steadied herself, grabbing the counter with one hand, and placing the other on his arm. "I think you're done for the night." Blushing madly, she pushed his arm away. He slowly pulled away, letting his fingers skim her waist and side as he did so.

"I think you're right," she replied quietly.

"Ready to go home?" he asked, already standing up. Nodding, she slipped off the stool. He pulled his wallet out and flipped through the bills, pulling some money out and setting it on the counter. She was about to open her mouth to protest he pay for her, but he was already leading her outside. "Keys," he ordered as they stopped by her car. Turning to face her, he held his hand out. She hesitated, knowing full well she shouldn't drive, but also wondering if she should just call a cab. She watched him chuckle. "Liv, don't make me frisk you for them."

She blushed, again, and reached into her pocket, holding them out to him. She didn't miss the way his fingers brushed hers as he took them. Walking to the passenger seat, she got in while he got into the driver's seat. "What time is it?" she asked as he started the car and began driving. She couldn't focus on the little green digits on the dashboard.

"Almost ten," he answered.

"How did it get so late?" she asked incredulously.

"Time flies after a few beers," he joked and she chuckled. Thankfully, it wasn't that long of a drive to her place. The rest of the drive was pretty much silent before he pulled to a stop on her curb. Shutting off the car, he leaned back in his seat.

"Why don't you come inside while you wait for a cab?" Did she really just say that? He studied her for a long moment, as if figuring out if she meant it, before agreeing and getting out of the car. Getting out as well, she stumbled over the curb, and he caught her by the arm and gave her a lopsided smile. She felt so clumsy and vulnerable. "Sorry," she mumbled as they made their way up to her door.

"Don't be. I don't mind catching you." Was she really that drunk or did he just wink at her? Shaking her head she took the keys from him and attempted to open her door. After a second, and a few laughs from Peter, she finally got the door open. The house was dimly lit, and she led him in, throwing her coat on the kitchen counter and kicking her shoes off. "I'm going to call the cab," he told her, pulling his cell phone out. Leaning against the counter, she put her face in her hands and sighed. Oh the hangover she would have in the morning. Luckily she wouldn't have to wake up early to go to work. One of the reasons she had caved so easily to go with Peter.

"When will it be here?" she asked when he hung up.

"About twenty minutes," he replied, leaning on the opposite side of the counter. Closing her eyes, she struggled on thinking a straight sentence. But her thoughts were interrupted when he spoke. "A little light reading?"

Looking up to see what he was talking about, she chuckled. He was holding up a small children's book, an eyebrow raised. "Oh, that's my niece's," Olivia explained. "Her and my sister are staying here for a while."

Setting the book down he looked back up at her. "And what would your sister think if she walked in and saw a drunk Olivia and a mysterious guy?" He gave her a small smile.

"So you're mysterious now?" she asked, smiling in return and standing up straight.

"Some girls would say so," he replied charmingly and she burst out laughing. "Shh, you don't want to wake them." She struggled to control her laughter, but began to fail miserably. "Liv, come on," he said, starting to laugh as well. Finally, he stepped around the counter and put a hand on her arm. "Shh!"

"Okay, okay," she said, taking a deep breath. Already she had forgotten what had started the laughing. "Come on," she whispered, meaning to grab his wrist, but missed and grabbed his hand. She didn't bother to fix her mistake and pulled him along anyway. Creeping past the room where her sister and niece were sleeping, she made her way into the living room and collapsed on the couch, pulling him down with her.

He sighed as he sat back into the cushions, and she turned to face him, propping her arm up against the back and leaning her head in into her hand. "So, tell me about your sister."

Olivia sighed. "Well, her name is Rachel. She's three years younger than me. Her daughter is Ella, she's six."

"Why is she staying?" se asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

"Let's not get into that at the moment," she told him, and he nodded. Suddenly her stomach growled, and a wide smile appeared on her face. "You hungry?" she asked, he opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "I'll be right back." Picking herself off the couch, she clumsily moved into the kitchen, opening the cupboard and grabbing a small box. Quickly, she came back to Peter.

"Animal crackers? Really?" Peter asked, chuckling, and Olivia glanced at the box.

"Why not?" she asked, falling back down on the couch beside him. Opening the box, she reached in and pulled one out. Examining the tiger closely, she popped it in her mouth. "I used to eat these all the time when I was younger." She confessed and he reached over and pulled one out. "I can never find them in the stores though. When I do, I buy like five boxes. This is my last one."

"You know what I loved when I was a kid? Pizza sandwiches," he explained, his face lighting up. "You know what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah, ketchup between two slices of bread. I hated those!" Olivia chuckled, scrunching up her face as she munched on the crackers.

"Oh, man, they were amazing! I used to go through a whole loaf of bread a week! Drove my mom insane." He chuckled with her. She reached for the box at the exact moment he did, and their hands met. He pulled away, and she blushed, quickly grabbing another cracker. He grabbed one as well, and she noticed they had both pulled out a zebra, before taking a bite from it.

"I still don't like them," she persisted, smiling. "I never got the big deal. Now peanut butter sandwiches? That's a different story."

"You're crazy," he joked, shaking his head. "Pizza sandwiches beat peanut butter any day." Olivia just smiled, shaking her head, and trying to hold in her laughter. She picked herself up, pulling her feet under her, before settling down again. "Let me see," he said, and before she could ask what he was talking about, he was leaning towards her, cupping her face in his hands and closely examining her cut on her forehead.

"You could have asked," she snapped, but didn't move. After a moment, she turned to pull away, but froze when he was turning his face at the exact same time. Their lips were almost centimeters away, she could feel his breath on her face. Frowning, she hoped her breath didn't smell so much like alcohol. How attractive that would be. Of course, she couldn't figure out why that would matter. Glancing from his eyes down the his lips, she reflexively licked her own. Looking back up at his intense green eyes, she didn't know what to do.

Suddenly, however, the bedroom door opened and they both pulled away quickly. "Livvy?" she heard her sister call. Olivia could feel her face growing hot, but looked up at her sister as she walked over to them. "Where have you been?" Her eyes then fell on Peter, who was smiling widely.

"Sorry, I should have called. I was with...um..." Damn, she couldn't even say his name!

"Peter," he cut in, smiling innocently up at Rachel.

"Right. I told you about Peter, haven't I?" Olivia asked, suddenly feeling conscious at how closely Peter and her were sitting. Her knees were resting lightly on halfway on his leg, and he had his arm on the back of the couch behind her head.

"Are you drunk?" Rachel asked, a smile creeping onto her face.

"Yes I am," she declared nodding.

"Wow, any man who could get my sister drunk is obviously a man worth knowing. I'm Rachel," she replied, winking at Olivia. Sitting down on the recliner opposed to them, she began to have a conversation with Peter about Boston, and why he was there. Suddenly, Olivia became extremely tired. She felt her head slipping, and her eyes closing. She thought she might keep falling, but her head landed on something firm and surprisingly comfortable. Before she could even get a yawn out, she was dead asleep.

..

"Wake up, sweetie!"

Groaning, Olivia rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes. Memories of last night back back fuzzy, missing bits and pieces. "Rachel?" she asked, her voice low and muffled. Sighing, she dared to open her eyes, squinting against the light, and looked over at the digital clock. It was only nine thirty, which is actually the latest she's slept in for a while.

"Yeah, I made you breakfast," her sister said cheerfully, crawling into bed with Olivia. "Here, thought you might need this." Sitting up, Olivia took the glass of water and pills from Rachel, downing them as quickly as possible. Her head felt like someone was hitting her with a hammer. Before she could ask her sister what happened the rest of the night, she spoke. "Man, you were really out last night. One second you're all bright and beaming, I glance away, and when I look back you're passed out on Peter's shoulder!"

"What?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah, he was so sweet about it though. I kept catching him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye," Rachel said, smiling slyly. "I can't believe how good-looking he is. I'm a little jealous."

"So, he got home alright, though? The cab came?" Olivia asked, scowling at her little sister's giddy manner.

"Of course. Before he left, though, he insisted on carrying you to your room," Rachel explained, taking the glass from her. Olivia paled, if that were possible, and glared at her sister, mostly from trying to hold onto her words than actually being mad. "It was really quiet adorable. Tucked you in and everything."

"And you let him?" Olivia asked, incredulously.

"Well, yeah, I wasn't about to drag you to your bed. I would have just left you on the couch. I told him that, but he said you hurt your back on a case. There was really no convincing him otherwise." Olivia rubbed her eyes one more time before throwing the blankets to the side and slowly slipping out of bed. "He stopped by this morning, left you something. I put it on the kitchen counter!" her sister called as Olivia dragged her feet out of the room.

Running her hand over her completely messed up ponytail, she knew this was the reason she never did that. The feeling afterwards. Both discomfort and regret. She embarrassed herself a lot when she was drunk. Sighing, she saw Ella sitting in the living room on the couch, playing with a stuffed animal. After wishing her a good morning, Olivia moved into the kitchen, curiosity taking over her as she came closer and closer. What could he have left?

There was a brown paper bag on the counter, edges of boxes protruding. He didn't... Olivia smiled to herself as she neared it, grabbing the bottom and pulling it upside down. Boxes of animal crackers spilled out onto the counter, too many for her to count. Even with the headache and all together horrible attitude, she chuckled, smiling up to her eyes. He did.

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Awww, Peter's so adorable. Well, hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. It's on tonight, I'm psyched.


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